


Returning the Past

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Abduction, Australia, Case Fic, F/M, Honeymoon, thylacines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 03:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16778914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: Set post ITWB, Mulder and Scully are honeymooning in Far North Queensland. Much to Scully’s chagrin, Mulder has delved headlong into a mysterious case of strange lights, Tasmanian tiger sightings and abductions. It’s not long, before they run into trouble…





	1. Chapter 1

There was a long stretch of white sand, the whitest she’d ever seen and where the ocean met it, blues and greens swirled in a tortoiseshell pattern. The row of trees bordering the beach was low, gnarly and the darkest green. A mint-fresh smell rose on the hot, light breeze. She could imagine the warm water dragging sand between her toes, the wind whipping her sarong around her legs, her hair across her face, the sun dappling her body. She closed her eyes and breathed in, long and slow. When she opened them again, the perfect view was still there.

But Mulder wanted to go monster-hunting and he was practically out the door before they’d even unpacked.

“Come on Scully, the Tasmanian tiger has been spotted in these parts on numerous occasions.”

“And no doubt always by men who’d drunk too much of the local amber nectar. Thylacines have been extinct since 1936, Mulder. At the hands of man. And we’re 2000 miles from Tasmania. The Great Barrier reef is not, and has never been, the natural habitat of the Tasmanian tiger. And Romero Sands is an ‘exclusive honeymoon retreat offering the most private of accommodation’ , not a magical, mystery tour.” She turned to face him. “Besides, I want to do the tree top walk and the island tour. And there are those little row boats you can hire.”

He grinned. “I know, I know. And we will do all those things, I promise. But please come tiger hunting with me first. Please.”

She looked back at the beach, sun glinting off the turquoise water before turning to Mulder, decked out in camouflage gear and binoculars and not for the first time wondered what the fuck she was doing.

They drove into the depths of the rainforest, following the nasal directions of the GPS. Towering ferns at the roadside cast crazy patterns the road, the tree canopy so tall that the highest branches looked like witches fingers scraping the blue sky. Even in the air conditioning, her sunglasses slipped down her nose.

“There’s a lot of paranormal activity downunder, Scully.”

She looked at his lap and smiled. “I bet there is.”

He chuffed and drummed the steering wheel. “No really, there have been many reports of UFO activity and alien abductions over the years. I’ve been in contact with the UFO and Paranormal Research Society of Australia. It’s fascinating.”

She twirled her hair in her fingers and laughed softly. A honeymoon in tropical Australia, about as far away from the darkness as they could get and yet. “I thought you wanted to find a thylacine, Mulder. Not a little green man.”

“Grey, Scully,” he said, squeezing her knee. “All these years together and you still get it wrong.”

“There doesn’t seem to be anything grey about Australia.”

He looked out of his window and nodded. “Tropical rainforest. It’s either hot and wet or hot and dry.”

“Sounds about right.” She gnawed on her knuckles as he gave her a look.

“So, after we’ve done with Tasmanian tiger hunting can we go alien hunting?”

She shook her head and laughed. “I didn’t realise that marriage would revert you to the little boy version of yourself, Mulder. Asking me what you can and can’t do like I’m your mother.”

“And I didn’t realise that marriage would turn you into an even bigger stick in the mud, Scully. We’ve flown halfway around the world and you don’t seem to want to open yourself up to new adventures in a different hemisphere. I mean the water goes down the plughole the other way round. The animals are unique, marsupials and monotremes. This should be right up your alley.”

“Everything is out to kill you – plants, birds, fish, insects, reptiles.”

“But, Scully, the sky is enormous. There are different constellations. Australia is an amazing place. A continent in its own right. And all you want to do is lounge by the pool.”

“Mulder, you’re whining.”

“I think you’ll find that’s whinging, Scully. Over here, it’s whinging. I memorised the Strine dictionary to prove it.”

“Strine or no Strine, mate, whatever it is, you’re fair dinkum doing it.”

“I just want to experience everything that there is to offer here – rainforest, coral reef, marsupials extinct or otherwise.”

“And Aussie aliens?”

He turned and gave her the full watt smile. “Do you think they say ‘G’day, mate’ when they greet you here?”

She reached in to her bag to get a bottle of water. “Yeah, and maybe they throw a prawn on the barbie as a welcome party instead of torturing you.” His smile fell away. He chewed his lip. She saw how his knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry, Mulder. That was out of line.” She ran her hand over his forearm.

“S’okay, Scully. It’s just sometimes it all comes back…”

She rolled her lips. “I know.”

Clouds gathered ahead, brooding grey. In her guilty silence she imagined the faces of aliens, hideous and tattered at the edges.

They turned down the narrow lane marked on her map as Eddie Romero Track and pulled up in the small car park, bays edged with pitted sleepers and low growing ferns sprouting at the corners. The air was full. Scully reapplied her sunscreen, sprayed insect repellent on them both and adjusted her hat. She shrugged a small back pack over her shoulders and Mulder took the heavier one.

“What have you got in there, Mulder? A wombat?”

He unbuttoned his khaki shirt further as the air grew thicker. “I might have packed for all occasions, just like the good little Indian Guide I was.”

She walked to the map board that stood next to the trail entrance. “I don’t think that it’s likely to rain sleeping bags here, Mulder. Just the usual tropical stuff.” She looked up, eyeing the rolling clouds above.

“It might not need to rain sleeping bags, Scully. But I might just get lucky, eh?” He pulled open the bag and showed her the rolled up silver fabric and telltale zip.

“Mulder, if you think I’m sleeping out here, you are nuttier than the macadamia plantation we passed. Besides we’ve got that wonderful four-poster king-sized bed back at the villa. You’ll always get lucky with that thing.”

He chuckled. “The guide should be here soon. I was told to pack all this stuff. Just in case.”

“Well, this is about the first time you ever been quite so prepared.” She wandered to the edge of the forest where the track began. There was a rustling in the undergrowth. She peered in further and saw two kangaroos. She beckoned for Mulder, putting a finger over her lips as he strode closer. The animals, smaller than she expected stood stock still, clearly sensing human presence. Their bodies marked with a reddish brown jacket, paler grey elsewhere and a distinctive black stripe across its face that set them apart from the photos she’d seen in tourist brochures. The animals turned and bounced deeper into the forest.

“Pretty good spot on the first trip here, Scully.”

“They were smaller and prettier than I’d imagined. I didn’t realise they had such distinctive markings.”

Behind them, car tyres scrunched over grave. They both turned to watch a land cruiser pull into the space next to their rental.

“Mr and Mrs Mulder?” The young woman held out her hand. “I’m Steph Callow.”

Scully stared at Mulder. He didn’t look at her, as he shook Steph’s hand. “Thanks for coming out with us.”

She smiled at him. “Not sure we’re going to see anything but there might be evidence.” She held out her hand to Scully. “Mrs Mulder, nice to meet you. Your husband’s enthusiasm has been full-on. I really hope we can find something for you both.”

“Dana Scully,” she said, shaking Steph’s hand. “My husband’s enthusiasm,” she eyed Mulder, who was finding the map very interesting, “is one of his most enduring traits.”

“Endearing, Scully? Did you say endearing?”

Steph stood between them before Mulder shrugged his backpack higher and grinned. “Let’s go and spy on some thylacines.”

A way in and her legs were already aching; her new walking boots were heavy, making her feet sweaty hot. She was out of practice. Paediatric surgery was a million miles from chasing aliens, cryptids and human monsters. She sucked on the top of a water bottle and squashed another mozzie against her arm.

The noises of the Australian bush were a mix of musical and maniacal and she had quickly grown accustomed to the background sounds, but the feral growl that rumbled ahead had her throat drying. She stopped and tried to listen, but all she heard was Steph and Mulder chatting in the background. She picked up her pace to catch up with them.

“So, where exactly was the latest sighting, Steph?” she asked.

“Another couple of kays in.” She stabbed a spot on the map. “There’ve been a few sightings there. It’s a dense clump of Alpinia caerulea. A native ginger. And lots of ferns and smaller understory plants. There’s a creek and the small marsupials, possums and tree kangaroos love it. It’s prime hunting grounds. The last time I saw one, a young male, was about a month ago.”

Mulder swiped the sweat from his forehead. “And other members of the group saw a female with cubs at the same spot.”

Scully pulled the map from him, flattening it out in her hand. It was just miles and miles of bush. Five hundred miles, in fact. “Group? What kind of group?”

“Why so sceptical, Dr Scully?”

She whacked his arm. “What kind of group?”

He stretched his neck side to side. Steph drank from her water bottle, seemingly oblivious.

“Mulder?”

The rumbling growl filled the air. They both looked towards it. Thick low-growing pines, bulbous trunks, eucalypts in silvery spotted greys dominated the view in both directions. The birdsong had silenced.

“Could be a koala,” Steph said, looking up. “People often mistake them for dogs.”

“I thought they were nocturnal.”

“They are usually, but it’s not uncommon to see them during the day. And the group Mr Mulder is referring to, is the FNQAAS. We often head out here, to watch the lights.”

Scully shucked off her backpack and let it drop to the ground. “The funkas? The lights?”

Mulder shrugged and looked up again, shielding his eyes.

“The Far North Queensland Alien Abductee Society. They hold regular meetings here to watch the mysterious lights that sometimes appear in the middle canopy. There are blue and white lights that bounce over the trees.”

“And you’ve seen them?”

“Oh, yes,” Steph said. “When I was taken they were the brightest they’ve ever been.”

Scully licked her lips and looked at Mulder. “When you were taken?”

Mulder stepped towards her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Steph is an abductee. And president of the FNQAAS. She’s been taken several times.”

“Mr Mulder tells me you’ve both had similar experiences yourself,” Steph said, offering them a muesli bar.

Scully sighed and shook her head. “I don’t believe this, Mulder.” She tried to keep her voice steady. “You said this was a trip to see thylacines, a nice little trip to the forest. But…”

“The thylacine sightings are linked to the lights and the abductions, Scully. It’s a fascinating case.”

“A case. On our honeymoon?”

Mulder smiled over at Steph, who was bent down taking photos of an elegant fern frond that curled outward. “Scully, I didn’t tell you at first because I knew you wouldn’t come. There are more holes in the stories than the plants in this forest but it gets us out and about.”

“No, Mulder. It gets you out doing the things you want to do. I get out plenty. It’s you who sits in that house all day reading stuff about funky Aussie alien hunters. There are no thylacines here. There are no lights. There have been no abductions. These people have probably inhaled some exotic fungus and shredded their minds. And once again, you’ve fallen for it.”

She grabbed her bag and stalked away.

“Scully! Where are you going?”

“Back to the car. You can get a lift back with funky Steph.”

She headed back along the path listening to Mulder’s footsteps crackling across the springy forest floor.

“Scully, wait.”

The path ahead seemed darker than on the way in, the gnarled branches twisting lower, obstructing her way. Leaves scratched at her arms and legs, leaving red marks.

As she rounded a bend, the first drops of rain began. She heard the low rumbling growl. The clouds darkened. The trees loomed higher and higher. Her breath came in hard spurts. Mulder grabbed her arm just as the first lightning strike lit up the sky. It flashed and arced, causing her to stumble. He fell with her. Steph was close behind and she knelt where they fell, pointing up.

Scully followed the blue light, low and flat, as it streamed off the canopy. Mulder shielded his brow and a slow smile spread across his face. The white light followed, in smaller dots, bouncing around. The air smelt of sulphur. The growl grew louder and louder until a peal of high-pitched barking filled their ears.

“This is amazing, Scully.” Mulder was holding her elbow and stood up, bringing her with him. A blinding flash crashed above them. Twigs snapped and split, raining down on them, bark scratching their skin.

An ominous crack, deep silence, then a large branch crashed through the air, sending them barrelling to the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

She woke with a crashing headache, a knot of nausea in her stomach and Mulder’s arm across her breasts. Leaf fronds curled over them, embedded into her hair. Her scalp was stinging and her fingers came away wet with blood. Her lips were dry and she rubbed at them, wiping a film of grainy debris over the back of her hand. She craned round to make sure Mulder wasn’t badly injured. He was on his side, curled behind her, mouth lolling, his lips and chin covered in brown flecks of dirt. A cut on his cheek striped blood like camouflage. His eyes flickered. His Adam’s apple bobbed and she watched for a beat before lifting his arm off her and pushing herself onto all fours.

The carpet of fronds and leaf litter was damp and its brackish smell wafted through her, causing her to dry retch. She looked around for her bag, hoping there was water left. As she unzipped it, Mulder stirred and let out a guttural groan.

“Scully? Scully? Are you okay?” He was up in typical panic mode, coiled and ready to strike, before his eyes landed on her. His smile of relief was as bright as the white lights from before.

“I’m fine,” she said. “You should have some of this.”

Sitting back down, he slurped from the bottle, then checked his watch. “How long were we out?”

She sat next to him. “Looks like a few minutes. How do you feel?” She ran a hand along his hair line, felt his pulse, pulled open his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he swiped her hand away and turned to look around him. “Scully?”

“Yes?”

“Where’s Steph?”

They spent an hour calling her, following trails that led into the depths of the rainforest. The rain had released aromas and seeds and insects burst through the air in plumes, steam fizzed off the broad-leafed plants and heavy droplets fell from the taller trees. A pair of bright birds flashed by, parrots of some kind, chattering, the beat of their wings whomping just above their heads. If this wasn’t a desperate search for a missing woman, Scully would have thanked Mulder for his foresight in bringing them here. It was magical, mystical and as atmospheric as any place they’d ever been. But Steph Callow was nowhere to be found and Scully was exhausted.

“Mulder, we should head back to the car. We need to call for help. Find the nearest police station.”

He nodded, but the look of guilt and defeat in his eyes caused her stomach to roil.

“We’ll find her, Mulder. Just not on our own.” His hand felt sticky in hers and she noted he was trembling slightly. She ran a hand over his brow, checking for bruising or cuts but found nothing other than slight redness across his forehead. A patch of red also marred the skin around his Adam’s apple. His breathing was shallow. “Mulder? Are you all right?”

His hand clutched hers. “I’m fine. Just a little dizzy. Probably dehydrated.”

“Well, then. Let’s go back.”

The trail seemed longer, more winding, overgrown with vegetation on both sides, which made it harder to walk through. She twisted and turned behind Mulder. His stride wasn’t quite at his usual intensity but it was still a challenge to keep up. She sipped on the water and insisted Mulder take some too. The shiny red of his temples still a worry. The sky rumbled above and lightning flashed.

“It’s starting again, Scully.”

“This is a tropical region, Mulder. Thunderstorms are a regular occurrence. The heat, the landscape, the proximity to the ocean. The…”

A crack overhead sucked the words out of her mouth. She ducked involuntarily. Mulder held his hands above his head and staggered back, tripping on a tangle of roots. He landed on his side and cried out. Scully rushed to him, pulling on his hand. He groaned and sat up. His gaze was cloudy, wandering. When his eyes widened and his mouth popped open, she turned round.

“Oh my god.”

“Scully…”

She sunk down onto her knees. Dampness wicked through the fabric of her pants. Her own pulse echoed through her ears. The animal stood stock still in front of them. A curious mix between feline and canine. It’s sloping back, the long tail, the stripes across its saddle, the long, thin snout. It was as beautiful as it was fierce. It watched them without blinking, standing side on, displaying its markings. She held her breath, felt Mulder shifting behind her. The thylacine prowled one way, turned, prowled back. It issued a throaty whine, turned in a circle and laid down, curling its legs around and resting its head on its front paws.

“Good dog,” Mulder whispered, laying a hand on her shoulder.

She let out a breath and tilted her head to him. “What now?”

“Throw him a bone and tell him to stay?”

“Mulder,” she said, lightly jabbing her elbow into his ribs. His hot breath was on the side of her neck and one hand was now in her lap. “Do you think we can outrun it?”

“I think it knows its territory better than we do. I’m not even sure we’re on the right path.”

Another rumble of thunder echoed around. Hot splashes of rain fell through the canopy. The thylacine yelped a yawn and shook its head. It stood up and stretched before slinking into the darkened bush behind. Scully stood and helped Mulder to his feet. Lightning bounced across the sky, followed by a sweep of blue lights.

“They’re back,” he said, pulling her in to him with both arms over her shoulders.

She pressed back, his body heat searing through her shirt. “And not just the lights.”

To their left, wandering and disorientated, was Steph Callow.

Scully helped her to sit down. She offered her water, she checked her temperature, pulse, pupils. Her breathing was erratic and her skin clammy.

“What happened, Steph? Can you tell us?”

The woman squeezed her eyes shut, gasping for a breath. She was shaking. Mulder found a spare shirt in his backpack and wrapped it around her shoulders. It took a few minutes, but she gradually calmed. She sipped on the water Mulder gave her.

“Did you see them?”

“The lights,” Scully asked.

Steph shook her head. “The thylacines.”

“We saw one. Just before you reappeared.” Mulder nodded to where the creature had slunk away. “How many did you see?”

“There was a whole group. A dozen maybe. I followed them here.”

“They led you to us?”

“Mulder,” Scully said, recognising that tone in his voice, the one that precipitated giant leaps of logic and wild theories. His colour was still worryingly high. She really needed to get him out of the forest. Not just to check his health, but to stop him from pursuing this crazy idea any further. “That’s highly unlikely.”

“When I came to, I was totally disorientated. I had no idea how long I’d been away, where I’d been, where I was, but the thylacine, a big one, probably the alpha, appeared and kind of encouraged me to walk with it. The others joined it and I just followed.”

The rain was getting heavier and heat haze swirled from the forest bed. Steph was able to walk and they followed the path. Relief burned through her when the car park came into view. It was late, the sky already dark from the storm. She was damp and tired, sore. Steph appeared to be okay and Mulder had brightened a little.

“I think you should come with us, Steph,” Scully said.

“I think that would be a mistake,” a man’s voice cut in.

Mulder spun round first and by the time Scully turned, there were three men surrounding them. They wore dark camouflage gear, boots, head torches. But not military, there was something more sinister about the way they stood.

“Who are you?” Mulder straightened up, took a step forward. One of the men met him with a knee to the lower stomach and he doubled over. Scully put her arm over his back. Steph screamed out as another of them grabbed her arm and pulled her towards their vehicle.

“Hey,” Scully called, launching herself towards them. “Where are you taking her? Who are you?”

The third man blocked her way and she watched as Steph was bundled into the four-wheel drive and the door slammed shut. Mulder rushed past, barrelling the man over and reaching the vehicle, pulling on the handle. Scully stepped over the man but he grabbed her ankle and yanked her down. She kicked at him, connecting with his jaw and he cried out, redoubling his efforts and grasping at her trouser cuff. Mulder was set on by the other two, and they rained blows down on his head.

“Leave him alone.” She struggled against the weight of the thug who had her pinned to the ground, bulky knees on her arms, backside on her abdomen, boot heels digging into her sides. She tried to twist away but had no leverage. She could hear Mulder moaning and called out one more time before the man sitting on her caught her on the jaw with a fierce right hook. Her neck snapped and her vision greyed out. His weight lifted and she curled on her side watching the vehicle’s wheels tear up the muddy track out of the car park.


	3. Chapter 3

Her shirt was stuck to her body but the sun was burning it dry. She ran her tongue round her mouth, her lips were dry and sticky. She lifted a hand to her forehead and chin tenderly and flexed her fingers and toes. She rolled herself up and looked over at Mulder. He was still curled on the ground, out cold.

“Mulder,” she said, looking around. The forest was dangerously beautiful and she felt stiff with fear, an outsider. “Mulder, wake up.”

He groaned and she pressed a hand to his chest to make sure he stayed still. His face was mottled with red welts and purple bruising. A cut under his hair line had dried in the fierce heat.

“Where’s Steph? Did they take her?”

“Yes and I have no idea where they went. I was out for a bit too.”

He sat up, despite her arms against him. “Are you okay, Scully?”

“I’m fine. In a better state than you, I should say. Can you stand up?” She helped him up but he collapsed again, clutching his arm. “Mulder?”

“My hand, it’s gone to sleep. And I feel a little light-headed.”

She pushed his sleeve up to his shoulder and checked the skin on his arm. There were bright stripes, red-raw. “They look like scratches.”

“The thylacine didn’t touch me, Scully.”

“I don’t think they’re from a dog, but they look nasty, the biggest one is oozing. I’ve got a kit in the bag.” She turned to look for it. The car park was empty. “The bags have gone.”

Mulder was struggling to sit up, twisting on to all fours. “Why would they take our bags?”

She knelt back next to him, rubbing his back as he panted. “I don’t know, but they know who we are now.”

His face paled as he stood up. He was trembling. “Then we need to find them.”

The perimeter of the forest was bounded by a gravel track and the trees and ferns leant outwards, reaching towards the different air, the fresher air, lighter somehow. The sky was a muddy grey, low rumbling thunder in the distance. Scully felt her hair frizz in the humidity and watched with caution as Mulder laboured next to her.

“We could drive for miles and not see anybody but the occasional camper, Mulder. This side of the Daintree is not on the tourist route. We don’t have a map or cells or even a compass. I think we should head back. Get you some medical attention. Alert the authorities.”

He shook his head. “Steph might be in danger, Scully. Is in danger. She knows too much.”

“About what?” she said, slowing down and pulling over. A smattering of raindrops thwacked against the windscreen. “Mulder, you don’t look so good.”

He leant his head on the window and sighed. “I’m okay. A little nauseous maybe.”

“Then we’re heading back to the villa to get you some drugs and then we’re going to the police. No questions.”

The police officer was hard to read. He jotted notes in his pad, tapped the nib of his pen against the desk and tilted his head side to side resulting in loud popping cricks. But Scully wasn’t convinced he was really listening to Mulder. She wasn’t convinced she was really listening to Mulder either, because aside from looking feverish still, frankly he sounded like a lunatic. Extinct animals, lights, abductees, thugs.

“We saw blue lights, broad and swirling. Then white dots bouncing around. The growl grew louder then boom!” Mulder clapped his hands.

She jerked at the sound and laid her hand on Mulder’s. “Officer Galea, we are here to report a missing person. The lights were…unusual, but I’m sure there’s a scientific explanation. Our primary concern is Steph Callow. The men that took her were violent, and struck me as some kind of militia outfit.”

Galea sucked in a loud breath. “I understand you were law enforcement officers in the US. I expect you find us Aussies a little laid back, quaint even. This,” he said, waving his arms around the room, “is not exactly the Hoover Building, but I can assure you there are no undercover militia groups in the Daintree. We have the occasional burglary, theft, minor assaults fuelled by alcohol, but most of the time my day is spent searching for tourists who think they know the forest. Your friend has no doubt simply wandered from the marked tracks. I can send in a team, Mrs Mulder.” The officer stood up and walked to the window. Outside, the sky was inky purple. The noise of cicadas had steadily risen as the interview progressed. The air in the room was stale, coffee-tinged. 

“It’s Dr Scully,” she said, flicking Mulder on the back of the hand as he offered her a lop-sided grin. “That would be a good start, Officer Galea. And what about the men who assaulted us?” Mulder’s bruises were shiny now and her own arms and hands bore the grazes. “We can give you descriptions.”

The officer turned and smiled. “Dr Scully, you might like to know that we’ve checked our records and we can’t find anyone named Steph Callow. There is no Far North Queensland Alien Abductee Society registered anywhere, there is no such company as TasTiger Tours and other than a bunch of hinky stories on the web, there have been no substantiated reports of strange lights in this region. But if you would like to report this ‘attack’ then I will happily take details. Did you note the make and model of the cars the ‘militia’ men were driving?”

Mulder pushed back his chair and the noise made Scully’s teeth twinge. She really needed a shower and a massage and a good night’s sleep. “Come on, Scully. Let’s go.”

He tugged at her arm with the intensity that signalled he was in full X-Files mode. Her fantasy of hot jets of water spraying over her, Mulder’s oiled hands expertly kneading out the tension from her shoulders, sprawling over the cotton sheets in that glorious bed, none of those things were going to happen.

She read the little booklet, Delights of the Daintree, that outlined the history of the tropical wetland forest for the second time. The flora and fauna was thousands, if not millions, of years old, the scale of some of the vegetation was incredible, with 3000 plant species, including some of the rarest known, she had come here determined to enjoy it for its history, diversity and promise. And yet, this remnant ecosystem with its primitive vegetation and its mysteries had become another bewildering backdrop to the craziness of their lives. It was a forest of light and darkness.

She rubbed at her neck and cricked it this way and that. She needed to reset. She took in her surroundings. The balcony was a rich chestnut timber, wide and deep, with a small hexagonal table and four chairs, a free-standing sun umbrella and a monster barbecue on a stand. There were condiments – salt, pepper, barbecue seasoning, olive oil, a wine cooler. It was perfect for outdoor, evening dining. But Mulder had piled hot chips and battered fish on a plate for her and was in the process of working through the other fried junk he’d ordered.

“These dim sims are pretty good, Scully. Want a bite?” He held out half of what looked like sausage meat in a crispy wanton wrapper and she shook her head. “What about this, the Chiko roll?” He pointed to the caramel coloured tube that looked like something she’d pulled from a desiccated corpse. She watched him dunk it into the barbecue relish.

“No, really, Mulder. If you’re feeling better, then you eat them.” She chewed on a chip and sighed. “What are we going to do? Do you have any other contacts, or was it just Steph you were emailing?”

Against the soft glow of the balcony light and with his longer hair, he looked younger. His fever had settled and the angry abrasions were less bold, his eyes sparkled again, his shoulders relaxed, leaning back in the chair, she could see he was processing the facts, picking over the details that meant nothing to the untrained eye, but could be the pivotal point of a case. She knew he missed it.

The Father Joe case had been too much, too soon, but it had opened up that need in him again, that need to dig, to provoke, to rattle. It was inured in him, instinctual, just like the vegetation in the forest – you could trim it back and cut it away but a seed would always find its way under the earth to grow again. For too many years Mulder had railed against the seeds of his curious nature, sinking into a fallow pit while she kept them both fed and watered. It wasn’t that she’d missed the danger or the fear or the darkness, as much as she’d forgotten what it felt like to see it unfolding. She would always be happy to see him in his element, but she knew what could happen to them if it wasn’t managed carefully.

“I’ve been checking back over the files and there are a couple of other names. We can start with them in the morning. I’ve left messages for Steph on her cell and her landline. I think we should drive to her house and take a look around.”

“Mulder, we can’t just break into someone’s house. We don’t have any jurisdiction here. Hell, we’re not even in the FBI any more. We don’t have anything. We can’t prove that she even exists.”

“They’re covering it up, Scully.”

“Who is? The police? Is that what you really think?”

He nodded, taking a bite of the Chiko roll. Brown gunk oozed out. He licked his lips and she looked away, shaking her head.

“He didn’t care about anything we said, Scully. He’s probably out there now talking to the thugs about how much we know, going through our bags.”

“Mulder, even for you, you sound….”

“Like what, Scully? Like an idiot? Like a madman? Scully, these bruises are not a figment of my imagination. Those scratches on your arm are real. Steph Callow is a real person. You talked to her. That thylacine was in the forest. You smelled it. Please don’t lay this all back on me and my perspective.”

Her neck ached and she squeezed it. “Clearly, something strange is happening in the forest. And we probably need to go back there, look for Steph, or her…”

“Don’t say body, Scully. You looked, I looked. There was no sign of animal predation, no clues, nothing. She just vanished.”

“Nothing just vanishes, Mulder.” The words tumbled out and she couldn’t stop them.

He shook his head and ate the rest of his meal in silence.

The next morning the sky was duck-egg blue and looked as fragile. The heat was searing. Her shirt stuck to her back, her front, her arms. Mulder was striding to the door of the little weatherboard house that stood on stilts like most of them in the neighbourhood. She lagged behind, itching at the nape of her neck where sweat trickled. His knocking went unanswered. He called out Steph’s name but the only sound in response was the melodious cry of a magpie perched on the branch of a tree with a shiny green leaves and a trunk like crows feet where it met the ground. Scully recognised it from the Delights of the Daintree as the native red tulip oak tree. She admired it for a moment, holding her hand over her eyes as she scanned its magnificence.

“I’m going round the back.” Mulder disappeared around the side and she heard him tapping and knocking against wood and glass. She walked through the car port attached to the side of the house and looked in the tins and buckets and plastic tubs. There was nothing to indicate that Steph lived a life out of the ordinary.

“Scully?” Mulder’s hoarse whisper came from the front. She stepped out and saw him at the front door.

“What are you doing inside?”

He beckoned her and she trotted up the steps to the door. He shut it behind her. “The back door was unlocked. And look at this place. It’s a mess.”

She walked into the small room at the front and papers were strewn across the faded floorboards. Magazines, books, bills. A small table was broken in half and a lampshade was upside down in the middle. A photo frame lay in halves on the carpet, its image curled next to it. A pair of hunters with guns over their shoulders gloating over the corpse of an unrecognisable animal. She walked back into the living room, stooped down and picked up some of the scraps of ripped paper. “The way the papers are, the mess in every room. It’s almost as if…”

A throaty grumble rose from below. They looked down at the floor beneath them.

“As if what, Scully?” He held her arm, waiting for the noise to dissipate.

“As if it was caused by a spinning motion,” she whispered now, as the growl echoed around them again.

His hand on her lower back was comforting. The itch at the back of her neck was amplified by the rumbling noise. She reached up and scratched at it as they walked slowly around the rooms, searching for the source of the growl. He picked up a table leg.

“You’re right. The debris is all scattered in a circular way, like it’s been spun and tumbled around.”

The growl deepened and a cackle of barking pealed around the walls. They stood still. She could feel the heat emanating from the skin on his arm as he pulled her closer.

“Mulder?” she said, as they circled around and came face to face with the open door of the back bedroom. “Is that what I think it is?”

His loud, dry swallow was all the answer she needed. He gripped her hand now and she shook with him. The Tasmanian tiger prowled towards them, teeth bared.


	4. Chapter 4

Of all the bizarre things they had seen over the years – or that she had just missed seeing, she rated this one right up there. And it wasn’t even a mutant or an alien. At least she didn’t think so. The Tasmanian Tiger had been hunted out of existence in the mid 1930s. The last remaining animal, Benjamin, was left to die in the Beaumaris Zoo in Hobart, Tasmania after authorities decided that a female, albeit the zookeeper’s daughter, had no business looking after the beast. Blind sexism and outrageous shortsightedness had led to its demise. Yet now, they were face to face with a very living and very breathing specimen. It shouldn’t be here. Especially not north of Cairns, 2000 miles away from its island habitat. The creature held its ground, exhibiting both feline grace and canine ferocity.

“It’s frightened,” Mulder whispered.

“So am I,” she said. “We don’t have weapons. We don’t have a plan. We don’t have any fucking clue what we’re doing here.”

He tensed and the pressure of his hand increased on her fingers. “Maintain eye contact. It might slink away.”

She went to laugh but the noise caught in her throat as the thylacine raked its tongue over its teeth, uttered a high-pitched keening sound and turned around. It padded out of the room into the darkness of the passageway between leaving just the smell of fear behind.

The road to the forest was windier than Scully remembered and she was already tight in the shoulders from the encounter. The constant twisting and turning made the ride doubly uncomfortable. Mulder hadn’t said a word. The radio dropped in an out and she expected him to quip about interference and lost time but he pulled into the parking area silently. Steph’s car was still there. Mulder managed to open the boot and climbed through, opening the passenger door. A search revealed nothing out of the ordinary.

“We know she keeps too much loose change, goes through breath mints and has an unhealthy obsession with The Veronicas,” she said, leaning against the door and puffing her fringe out of her face.

Mulder walked round to her and shoved a paper in her hand. “And we know she exists. Look at that, Scully. It’s a car registration form with her name and address on it.”

“It’s three years old and there’s no photo ID. And the only resident at Karinya Drive, Diamond Hills was a thylacine.”

“But it means Officer Galea was lying,” Mulder said, heading into the forest.

Her back groaned as she struggled to keep up. “Where are you going?”

“Steph’s out here somewhere, Scully. We’ve got to find her.”

“She could be anywhere. This park is 460 square miles. It’s insane to go back in so unprepared. Those men meant business.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. “Please, Mulder. Let’s just think about this.”

He shrugged her off. “Did you think about it when you went looking for me? I know I didn’t when you were taken. I couldn’t think it through. I just had to go with it.”

Thunder ripped through the sky, causing her to gasp with the sheer sound of it. “If that isn’t a warning, Mulder, I don’t know what is. Let’s come back tomorrow. Prepared.”

The villa offered white coolness. Even in the dusk it seemed bright inside. She made a plate of crackers and cheese and found the relish Mulder seemed to like so much. She poured them each a glass of white wine and slipped off her shoes, sinking into the couch. Mulder sat too, chewing on his lip.

“I did search for you, Mulder. I followed every lead, I walked into the desert and yelled at the sky. I used my fear to drive me at first, but then I used my head and the resources available. But this isn’t about you or me. This is a woman you don’t know anything about. She might even be a part of whatever this Tasmanian tiger thing is. Mulder, this isn’t an X-File, it’s our honeymoon. Please don’t forget that.”

He turned to her and leant his forehead against hers. The sharp tang of pinot grigio on his breath. He echoed a kiss against her lips and sighed away, head against the back of the chair. “I heard you.”

“What do you mean?” She sipped her wine and watched pain cross his face.

“When you yelled into the desert sky. I heard you.”

“You never told me,” she said, reaching out to stroke his arm. “You never told me much of anything back then.”

He chuffed out a bitter laugh. “I thought I could forget. I wanted to forget. But…”

“You remember it every day. Oh, Mulder. I wish you would have talked more.”

He did laugh then. “Do you have any idea what that sounds like coming from you?”

The sun was low on the horizon, spreading fire over the ocean. It rippled and waved, hypnotising her. She swallowed the rest of her wine, letting Mulder gently knead her gristly neck. He lowered himself to pepper kisses around the sides of her neck, lifting back her hair and nuzzling until her nipples peaked.

“That feels so good, Mulder.”

“Mmm, tastes good too,” he said, moving closer so he was pressed against her. One hand snaked around her waist and pushed up through her top, seeking her breast. He continued to kiss her neck, holding her hair away. He stopped. “Scully?”

“Mmm?”

“Your neck.”

“What?” she pulled away, turning, running a hand to where he was looking.

“It’s bright red, raised. Your scar. Where the chip is.”

The itch was incessant. Like a seed had started to sprout under her skin. Mulder paced, he was worried she was going to be summoned.

“It doesn’t feel like that, Mulder. I don’t feel any compelling call. It’s not resonating within me like it did before. It’s just really itchy. I think it might just be heat rash. My hair was stuck to my head, it’s so humid. And seeing that animal in the house heightened my adrenaline levels which in turn caused my body to break out in a cold sweat. My skin has been working overtime.” She kissed his pouty lips and he sank back into the couch, pulling her with him. “I’m fine, Mulder. I’m not going anywhere.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Maybe a cold shower would help?”

She eyed his lap and chuckled. “Help me or you?”

The sound of tapping computer keys woke her and she watched Mulder hunched over his laptop for a while. The grey dawn outside made him even richer in depth and colour, even more angled. She pushed herself up and he turned to her.

“Morning, Scully.”

“Did you sleep at all, Mulder?”

“Not after you did that thing with your tongue,” he grinned.

She threw a bundle of clothes at him and padded to the kitchen. “I presume you’re feeling better, Mulder?”

“A bit of a lingering head ache, I think the swelling of my bruise has gone down, and you sure know how to heal a man, Scully.” He typed a little more then closed the cover. “Did you know that a woman in Townsville, here in Far North Queensland, was being treated for chronic low back pain, was told that she would end up in a wheelchair, on morphine for the rest of her life. She had a levitating experience and the pain disappeared. She could walk again. When she underwent hypnosis she described pale blue lights and flashing bright white lights, a flash. She was on a craft. She gave detailed descriptions of what it looked like, of the beings that helped her. She used words in a language that nobody could translate. There are cases like this all over Australia. Tasmania, Victoria, the Northern Territory. The same thing. There seems to be some kind of hotspot here, Scully.”

“Mulder, none of that helps explain what happened to Steph Callow or how that thylacine ended up in her house. Steph didn’t suddenly recover from an incurable condition. She didn’t describe a craft or beings.” She sipped her coffee. “I still think we should have alerted the authorities about the tiger.”

“The authorities deny the existence of a woman we both met. A woman whose car is still parked in the forest where she disappeared. A woman who claims to have been abducted multiple times. Does any of this sound at all familiar to you?”

“So, what’s the plan now? Back into the rain forest? Searching for a woman whose existence can’t be verified. Trying to film a secretive enclave of extinct creatures?”

“Sounds like an X-File, Scully. Which means you should be searching for the science, the evidence to prove the possibles in this forest of impossibles.”

She walked out to the balcony, rubbed the back of her neck. The heat at the chip site was palpable. She too had woken with a lingering pain in her temples but this had hardly been the honeymoon of her dreams and science would suggest that stress could cause all manner of physical ailments. Besides, she had a lingering feeling that there was something more sinister to this case than a missing person and the re-emergence of a long-dead creature. And in her experience, sinister usually meant human involvement.

He joined her and they took a moment to enjoy the view. “I did do some research, while you were recovering from that thing I did with my tongue,” she said, leaning into his welcoming shoulder. “I found a research project to resurrect the thylacine using captured DNA from Benjamin, the last specimen in captivity. It was a legitimate project, funded by the Australian federal government, that closed down due to lack of progress. And the lead scientist is now based in a small settlement just south of here. That could be a place to start.”

“Coincidence much, Scully?”

“Or a fortunate turn of events, Mulder?”


	5. Chapter 5

The facility ‘Eddie Romero House’ was ensconced behind a security fence. She frowned at the recurrence of the name. Years of being an investigator made it impossible to think of coincidences and serendipitous happenstance. Years of being an investigator on The X-Files showed her that even the smallest of coincidences was likely to be anything bug.

Sunlight filtered through menacing clouds and pinged off the metal pickets. Mulder buzzed the intercom and itched at the skin on his arms. A security guard walked from the main building to stand outside the gate.

“We’re looking to talk to somebody in charge,” Mulder said.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“It’s urgent we speak to somebody. It could be a matter of life and death.”

Scully looked at the ground, impacted red dirt crumbling at her footfalls. Mulder’s flair for the dramatic, coupled with this dogged insistence often got them entry into secure facilities but the guard didn’t seem impressed. They had no badges to flash, they had American accents, they had no jurisdiction.

“Professor Callow is in meetings. He won’t be available until tomorrow.”

“Callow?” Scully said, looking at Mulder. He did the customary slow blink that told her he was on the same page as her. “We’re friends of his daughter’s. Please tell him it’s urgent that he speak with us.”

The guard lifted the radio to his mouth and static crackled. She rubbed the back of her neck and Mulder paced. A pair of green and red parrots screeched past. A vehicle reversed from a steel shed to the left of the main facility, stirring up a plume of dust.

“He says he’ll see you. Follow me.”

Professor Callow was seated behind a wooden desk bearing all the hallmarks of an office that hadn’t seen a change in twenty years. A Rolodex next to a rotary dial phone, a blotter pad, a stationery holder filled with Biros, pencils, a plastic ruler, Tippex. There was a framed photo of two men, one a younger Callow, rifle propped against his shoulder, standing over the corpse of a large animal that Scully couldn’t make out. She peered at its familiarity, then recalled the crumpled version of the photo on Steph Callow’s living room floor. There were glass cabinets along each wall, containing skeletal remains and stuffed animals with blank eyes and dull fur. Faded posters on the wall depicted a variety of Australian marsupials, and directly behind the Professor’s chair was a map of Queensland.

“You know my daughter somehow?” he said, his accent clear-cut English.

“She took us on a walk through the Daintree.” Scully looked at a poster of endangered and extinct animals. Toolache wallaby – bearing similar markings to the kangaroos they’d seen that first morning, broad faced bandicoot, lesser bilby. She checked out the small signs propped up against the stuffed creatures, Eastern hare wallaby, brush-tailed bettong.

“She was a promising zoologist, she had a knack for research. Stephanie studied hard. It’s a shame.”

There was something tight about the older man, Scully thought. Something closed off. She’d seen the same thing when Mulder was returned. An outward show of vagueness that really just covered up an inability to articulate the heart of the issue. He was scared.

“What’s a shame?” Mulder asked, picking up a jar from a shelf. He held the jar out as he continued to challenge the professor, rattling the brown seed pod inside it so that it drummed with each word he spoke. “That Steph became a tour guide and not a Professor, like you?”

“No, no. It’s…her mother…the family. It was difficult. For all of us, but for Stephanie, a teenager at the time, it was. Well, she struggled.” Callow took the jar from him and set it back on the desk. His hands trembled.

“Your wife, Steph’s mother, what happened to her?” Scully watched the way he sucked in a deep, long breath, chest puffing out. The seed inside the jar, labelled Idiospermum australiense was pale yellow on the outside and a ridged red inside, reminded her of a golden apricot and she kept her eyes on it while Callow sunk back into his chair.

“She disappeared. Just vanished.” Callow’s voice was shallow, like he’d told the story so many times it was just a rote response.

She looked back at Mulder, pressing her teeth into her lower lip. She wondered if they would ever relate any of their own history like that, without the passion, without the fire needed to continually reach for justice.

“Miriam went out to buy milk and never came back. We…just carried on. You do, don’t you? But Stephanie was never the same. Went to university in Tasmania, as far away from here as she could get. She worked hard but the spark, the passion for it had gone. After she graduated she went on a gap year to South America and when she came back she couldn’t settle. She told me once that being a tour guide was a way of always looking for her mother. As though she might just find her out there in the bush somewhere all these years later,” he smiled sadly. “She likes being outdoors. Just like her mother.”

“Have you heard from her recently, Stephanie?” Scully stepped towards him. “She’s missing, Professor Callow.”

Callow shook his head, an absent expression clouding his eyes. “I’m afraid that Stephanie has often gone ‘walkabout’ as they say in these parts.”

“We were with her when a group of men dragged her into a four-wheel-drive and we haven’t seen her since. The police don’t seem interested. Her house…there was a disturbance there.”

The old man pushed himself up from his desk, knuckles turning white. “She kept some strange company too. Abductees, she called them. She was adamant she’d been abducted too. Told me fantastic tales of being on board UFOs and lights in the forest. Crazy stuff. Nobody believes that kind of thing, do they?” Callow looked at Mulder and Scully lowered her gaze, breathing through the awkward silence.

“What did you make of her company? TasTiger Tours,” Mulder said, not rising to the bait.

“Taking tourists to see thylacines in the Daintree? When she told me what she was doing I told her that people would either see her as a lunatic or a scam artist. But it seems I was wrong. There are plenty of fools…” He stopped and Mulder offered him a accepting grin. “Sorry. You are entitled to spend your dollars any way you see fit, but Tasmanian tigers have been extinct for decades and most certainly did not inhabit tropical rainforest.”

“And yet both Dr Scully and I have seen thylacines in recent days. One was inside your daughter’s home.”

Professor Callow blanched and held on to the edge of the desk. “In Stephanie’s house? That’s impossible.”

“It wasn’t so long ago that this facility was being funded to research thylacine DNA with a view to potentially reviving the species. It’s not much of a stretch to consider that the animals might have escaped and thrived in the wild.”

Callow sighed and shook his head. “You sound like Stephanie. She had a penchant for the arcane. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d faked her own abduction by this group of men, simply to get my attention. I’ve suggested she see someone, you know, a psychiatrist to help her with her troubles, but she wouldn’t be told. She seems to be a lost cause.”

Mulder continued to talk, despite the old man walking past him to the door. “There are precedents where animals have created their own enclaves in non-native regions. The fabled big cat stories around the world can be explained in this way.”

Callow opened the office door. “What you say is true, Mr Mulder. And I may agree, except for the fact that my project never created a single live specimen. The trials all failed.”

Mulder swigged from the water bottle as she drove. The light outside was weak and grey. “What do you think, Scully. Is he involved?”

“He was frightened, Mulder. I saw a man cowed not just by the weight of his wife and daughter being missing, but by fear.”

“He certainly knows more than he was letting on, Scully.”

She watched him lean his head against the window. “You need to rest, Mulder. You still look like you’re running a fever.”

“I’m fine. I just need to clear my head to think. Callow’s experiments didn’t yield a live thylacine, according to him. Yet we know they exist. What would be the purpose of recreating extinct animal lines, Scully? Where does that fit in with the abductions, the lights? And why would the police dismiss the case? Even if Steph was well known in these parts as someone with a psychiatric history, why deny she even existed?”

“I’ve been thinking about that too, Mulder. And did you notice the name of the guard at the front gate?”

He turned to her, cheeks flaming. “No, what was it?”

“Galea. Same as the police officer.”

They drove to the police station. The car park was deserted. Grey clouds pushed low over their heads and Scully scratched at the back of her neck. Mulder was slow to get out of the car. A sheen of sweat sparkled across his brow. She walked up the steps and rapped at the door. No answer.

“Do you get a weird feeling, Mulder?”

He didn’t answer but mopped at his forehead with the back of his hand. His chest rose and fell laboriously. She twisted the handle and pushed at the door. It didn’t budge. “If this is a joke, I don’t like the Australian sense of humour. Mulder,” she said, stepping back down to where he was leaning against the car door. “Get back in the car, out of the heat. Drink the water. I’m going around the back.”

She knew he was sick when he complied without complaint. There were garden beds either side of the building, leaf litter piled high. Tall palms swayed on the increasing breeze and a pair of bird of paradise plants pecked at the empty air with their resplendent bronze beaks. The windows of the house were covered in cobwebs and the side door was locked. How had they not noticed the state of the place when they spoke with Officer Galea? Who were the other people in the building? Were there other people? She peered through the dirty glass of the back door but saw nothing but the marks of a building that hadn’t been inhabited for a while.

A car engine caught her attention and she hurried back round. A small blue SUV swung into the gravelled space next to their hire car and a middle-aged couple got out.

“If you’re looking for the police station, you need to head back that way, to Port Douglas. This one hasn’t been used for a few years now.”

“We were looking for Officer Galea,” Scully said, keeping an eye on Mulder, who was leaning his face against the window.

The woman shrugged. “The last copper here was Sergeant Blythman and she left to have a baby. That baby’s at primary school now. We just tidy up the yard. Len, give me that fertiliser. Those plants need a good feed.”

Scully opened the driver’s side door, but turned back to the couple. “Have you ever seen strange lights in this area? Blue lights?”

“You’re Americans.” Len joined his wife.

“We’re here on our honeymoon,” Scully said, as much to remind herself as to inform the couple. “We came here to report a crime here just the other day. Now it’s empty.”

The couple continued to remove gardening equipment from the back of the car.

“Who is Eddie Romero?” Scully asked. “It’s the name of a local research facility. It’s the name of one of the forest tracks. Our accommodation is Romero Sands.”

“He’s no-one special,” the woman said. “Enjoy your honeymoon. Go swimming. Do some bushwalking, but don’t stray off the tourist tracks. Have a nice time. Go home to your families.”

“Do you know Steph Callow?”

The woman exchanged looks with her husband. “Who are you?”

Mulder got out of the car, his body sagging. “What’s going on in this town? What are you afraid of?”

“We’re not scared,” the woman said, straightening up. “We’re just invisible. Nobody listens to us. They just want people to come here, spend their money. The tourist dollars rule. It’s like that film with the sharks, isn’t it, Len? You know the one, where the mayor of the island won’t shut the beaches down for the long weekend.”

“Jaws,” Scully said, looking over at Mulder. “Have people been hurt here? Killed?”

The woman looked at Len. “They’ve disappeared. But the government people say that they just lost their way, the forest is dangerous if you’re not careful.” She walked up to Scully and took her hand. “You two look like lovely young people. You don’t need anything like that happening to you. It’s the worst thing. People go missing and you never know what’s happened. You live every day like they might just come home and fling their coat across the hall and sit on their favourite chair and ask for a cup of tea, you know? It’s cruel, is what it is. Hope and dreams. It’s just cruel.” She rolled her lips together and took a long, slow breath. “You take care now. Come on, Len. It’s going to rain soon. Let’s spread this stuff and get home.”

Mulder groaned in his sleep, deep guttural sounds that held fear. She often wondered how he processed all that happened to him. Besides the abject terror of the abduction, he had faced the death penalty. They had spent months on the run, looking over their shoulders, living out of cheap motels and even cheaper cars. He held it in, he held it together, mostly. She knew he thought he had to be strong for her, as she did for him. They both drove for days wearing their stoicism like armour. Back then, she knew the day would come where one of them would crack. She lay odds that it would be her first. That she would flip tables and throw away the hair dye and the Walmart underwear. That she would call her mother and write her brother. That she would tell Mulder she didn’t really love him and that she was leaving. That she would lie to save him. To save them both.

But in a long-forgotten town, in a long forgotten state, she returned with two bags of groceries and found him balled up in the corner of the darkened room, furniture broken around him, sobbing. The bags dropped to the floor and split open spilling the tins and packets in front of her. She let him cry against her chest until his tears soaked her vest. He didn’t talk, didn’t need to. She was grateful for that desolate place, grateful for the onerous skies and the stares of the townsfolk, grateful for the one store and flickering neon motel sign, grateful for the gritty coffee and the faulty ice machine. It drew out his sorrow and suffering and pushed hers down. She would never leave him. She would never lie to him.

Now, she dabbed his brow with a cool washcloth, then pressed it around the back of her neck, easing the itch there. Wherever Steph Callow had gone, the dark forces in the forest were responsible. But with Mulder tossing fitfully by her side, there was no way they could go forward with any kind of investigation. She’d have to find a doctor’s surgery in the morning. He needed treatment.

“The light was so bright, Scully. It was so bright it felt like my eyes had been sliced open and silver was poured inside.” He pushed himself up and bunched the sheet across his lap. His voice was groggy, his skin tacky to touch. She gave him water. “I dreamt that Steph Callow was there with me, on that ship, Scully. She was trapped too, helpless and that bright light burned her and she burst into flames.”

While Scully made tea, he played with the remote, and a news anchor read out details of a mysterious death locally.

A member of the public called in the discovery of the body. At this stage, the police have not issued any details of the circumstances or the victim but there is a presence at Eddie Romero House.

“It’s Professor Callow,” Mulder said, calling her back to the bedroom. “He’s been killed.”


	6. Chapter 6

There was a roadblock with two vehicles. It seemed an underwhelming presence for a murder, but this wasn’t Washington DC. They turned right at the intersection before the officers saw them. The sky was bright blue and cloudless. There was a freshness to the air that she hadn’t noticed for the entire time they’d been here. Had they been on holiday instead of on a case, she would have loved to spend time on the beach, or out on the reef, exploring. She laughed out loud.

“What is it, Scully?”

“I had to force myself to remember that we are actually on honeymoon, Mulder. Where are we going?”

He stopped and picked up her left hand, pressing her ring to his lips. “I haven’t forgotten, Scully. And I love you more because of your willingness, your commitment, your…”

“Lunacy?”

“It’s not a full moon until the day after tomorrow,” he grinned. “Maybe that will draw out all the thylacines?”

“You didn’t answer my question. Where are we going?”

They trod through the undergrowth until they came across a looming security fence. “Here,” he said. “This is the back of the facility. I figure the body is still in situ.”

“And you want to break in?” She scratched at her neck. “I knew I should have taken you to the doctor’s, Mulder. This is about the most stupid idea you’ve had.”

“Not ever, surely, Scully? Remember that time I jumped on a moving train? That was pretty dumb.” He held his hands together and nodded to her feet. “And I told you. I woke up feeling much better. And besides, I’m not going to break in, Scully. You are.”

Mulder’s bright idea was to return to the front and distract the officers whilst she scaled the fence and found a way through the locked doors and security. It was ill-thought out, dangerous and frankly, guaranteed to raise suspicion, if not get them caught but she still found herself slipping down the metal fence and running across the empty car park praying that the security camera feed was down. Why hadn’t the police posted officers here? Where was the security guard? She was thinking these things when she pressed herself against the side wall and inched her way round towards the door. If she couldn’t break the lock at least there was a small window next to it. She picked up a couple of stones from the ground and slipped them into her pocket.

At the corner, she stopped to gather her thoughts. Making a noise would attract the attention of anybody inside so she’d have to work quickly. She tried to remember the inside of the facility from the meeting with the professor the other day, tried to give herself the best run at this stupid plan. Even if she found the body, it would be guarded. She couldn’t very well pass herself off as medical or police personnel, dressed as she was in a long flared linen skirt and blouse set.

She sucked in a breath and took a step round the side of the building. Taking hold of the door handle, she prepared to shoulder it open, but with the gentlest pressure it opened. The air inside was cool and she entered, closing the door to the heat behind her. It was dark and quiet save for the distant murmur of activity outside. She tried to get her bearings as she walked forward. There was a passageway with several doors off it. She trod carefully, slowly, hoping that Mulder was holding his end of the bargain. At the end of the passage it connected to another, and when she turned left, she came face to face with a thylacine, standing in the middle of the corridor, saliva dripping from its open mouth. Its teeth and gums red. Blood red. Scully froze, trying to tamp down the fear that left her fingers thrumming and her temples throbbing. She swallowed. She stepped backwards, connected with something, someone. Before she could swing round, a hand clamped over her mouth and an urgent whisper ordered her to keep quiet.

Her assailant pulled her back through one of the doors off the passageway. Scully struggled and dipped at the waist, throwing the attacker over. She kicked and connected with a rib, eliciting a shriek of pain. A female shriek. Scully squinted in the dim light of the room. She was fighting with Steph Callow.

“What the hell is going on here?” Scully said, puffing, hands on knees. A small jar rolled past her and she picked it up, pocketing it, as she hauled herself to her feet.

“My father is dead,” Steph said, rubbing at her sides. “And I think you’ve cracked my ribs.”

Scully sunk back down and supported Steph to sit up. She opened up Steph’s shirt and pressed tenderly at the darkening skin on Steph’s skin – forming into the shape of the jar. “I’m sorry. I think it’s just bruised, can you stand up? Mulder’s stalling for us but it won’t be long before the police find us. Or security.”

“There’s no security here,” Steph said, struggling to her feet. “My father’s organisation is just a dummy research front for the experiments being carried out. Recreating animals long known to be extinct.”

“Did that thylacine kill your father?”

Steph cuffed her nose. “There was a gaping bloody wound where his throat should have been.”

From the front of the building, Scully could hear voices growing louder. Footsteps. “We need to get out of here, Steph.”

The thylacine was still guarding the passageway when they stepped through the door. Steph hugged her side with one hand and put out her other, palm flat to the creature. It licked its chops, scattering blood and spit over the floor and wall. Then it slunk down and lay its head on its front feet.

“Come on,” Steph said. “We’re safe now.”

Scully wasn’t sure that was the word she would have used but followed Steph towards the back door. And it wasn’t the word she used when their way through was blocked by ‘officer’ Galea and his brother, the security guard.

Galea and Galea loomed over them. With Steph’s injury, Scully knew they had little chance of getting out.

“Let us past,” she said, trying for her best FBI voice.

The arm across her chest told her it didn’t work. She stuck a hip out instinctively and bent, grabbing an arm and trying to flip officer Galea over. He obviously had training because instead of tumbling to the floor, he simply twisted her arm back and she felt the raw give of tendons in her shoulder.

Blood tainted her teeth as she bit her lip to stop the pain. The floor rushed up to meet her and she heard Steph fall too. She twisted to her side, tucking her knees to her chest but before she could bounce up, officer Galea fell to the floor next to her, bleeding from the nose. She and Steph scrambled back just in time to see the security guard Galea meet the same fate. Mulder stood there nursing his knuckles and for a moment all she could see was the flex of his biceps. She licked her lips.

“The cavalry arrived,” he said, grinning.

“And now the troops need to get out of here,” Scully said, looping an arm around Steph’s waist and pulling her along.

Steph drank four glasses of water. Then she sobbed until she was dried out again. Her father’s death was horrific for her to comprehend, despite their obvious differences. Scully was concerned about the sheen on her skin, convinced the woman was a running a fever. Like Mulder.

“You both need to go to a doctor,” she said. “I’d like you to get blood work done.”

“Nobody’s putting needles in me any more,” Steph said, shivering. “They’ve done it for too long now. I can’t…”

Mulder rubbed his jaw. “Were you abducted this time, Steph? Where did they take you?”

The woman slumped on to the arm chair, shaking her head. “It’s not clear yet. It takes me a few days to get orientated. And with my father…” Tears slipped from her eyes again.

Scully picked up the phone. She turned her back on Mulder and called reception. “I need to get two people to a medical clinic as soon as possible.” She didn’t hear Steph until she’d cut the call off.

“No. No doctors. No clinics. You do the tests.” She closed her hands around Scully’s. “Please. No more bright lights and sterile rooms.”

“I can’t do blood work without a clinic to work in. And I’m not breaking in anywhere else.”

Steph squeezed her hands. “You might not have to break in. Can I use your mobile?”

The night was thick with unshed rain. There was a solitary security light on at the Forest Lodge Medical Clinic. An SUV crawled into the carpark and Scully immediately recognised the couple from the police station, earlier in the day, or whenever that was. 

“Who are you?” Scully asked.

“Gantry. My name’s Phyll and this is Len.”

“But who are you really?”

The woman laughed. On the same set of keys as they’d had for the disused police station, they pulled the key to let them into the clinic, resetting the alarm. “We’re just like you. We need answers.”

“The Gantry’s son, Jamie, went missing a few years ago. He was a journo and he went into the forest to investigate a rumour of UFOs and other strange occurrences and never came out. I’ve seen him though. On the ship. And all the others.” Steph hugged her midriff.

Scully looked at Mulder. He nodded slightly and she felt a bubble of frustration well up. “Let’s get this over and done with,” she said, slipping past the believers and feeling alone.


	7. Chapter 7

Despite years on the X-Files, investigating the strange and the dangerous, Scully felt more exposed here in another hemisphere than she ever had on any case. They were in Australia, on honeymoon, they had no jurisdiction. The case may be real – certainly Callow’s death was almost surreal in its goriness – but here they were simply breaking in and breaking the law. Even with Mulder by her side – her anchor, despite his impetuous tendencies, she felt uncomfortable. And yet. These people, Steph Callow, the Gantrys, they were real, they seemed genuinely invested in finding the truth.

Finding what she needed in a strange clinic took a while but eventually she got the blood drawn. She bandaged Steph’s ribs and glanced over at the woman who sat silently staring at the floor, that sheen of sweat still over her skin.

“It won’t be long before those thugs work out their next plan of campaign, Mulder,” Scully said as she stripped off the latex gloves. Len and Phyll were murmuring with Steph, their silhouettes lit only by the faint glow of the security lighting across the walls of the clinic.

“I know, Scully, but we need to know what we’re dealing with.”

She rubbed her forehead. “We need to go to the police, Mulder. This is so far out of our control now that we’re putting ourselves in danger just by being with these people. This is not what we came here for.”

His arm across her shoulders was welcome. Tension pulled at her muscles, leaving her tight and aching. Her treatment at the hands of the Galeas had been rough and a throbbing headache gripped her skull. “I know, Scully and I’m sorry but these people need our help. The police here are clearly under the same malevolent influence as Callow and the rest of the gang. There’s a conspiracy…”

“Mulder, just stop,” she said. “Listen to yourself. What we’ve stumbled across here is clearly something criminal but to label it a malevolent influence is just ridiculous.” Her voice sprang up a notch and the others turned to look at her. Steph stepped off her chair and joined them, hunched against her injury.

“How long before we know the results, Dr Scully?”

Scully sighed. It hurt to even do that. “It’ll take a while.”

Steph nodded and winced in pain before wandering over to the Gantrys in the corner of the room. Mulder stood with his hands on his hips. “Mulder, this is madness. You know it. What’s to stop those men from coming back and really hurting someone this time, or worse? And what are we even looking for? I’m testing blood for what exactly?”

His eyes raked over her as he considered her words. She knew that the last thing he wanted was to put them in danger, but what he’d said before, about the darkness finding them, it was certainly panning out that way. His passion and tenacity was something she held dear. He could no more ignore a victim who needed help than she could ignore scientific proof.

“Why don’t I get Steph and the Gantrys out of here while you finish up? We could find a safe spot and get some rest.”

She nodded. “Where’s safe, Mulder? If we’re not being hunted by militia men or passing out in the forest, we’re being tracked by supposedly extinct mammals.”

Len Gantry appeared and touched Mulder’s shoulder. “I know a place.” The older man’s kindly face set her heart at ease somewhat. These people seemed to be on their side. Steph looked calmer and to be frank, Scully needed to space to work. “You should be all right here for a little while longer, Dr Scully. We’re the only ones who come and go round here.”

Mulder rested his hands on her shoulders and gave her one of his looks, the one that spoke of pure love, of respect and of the promise that things would get better. He kissed her lips and she sighed into his mouth. “Call me when you get where you’re going.” She tried for an order but it came out like a plea.

She watched them drive off, pushing her hand into her pocket. She retrieved the jar she’d picked up after the tangle with Steph and inspected the contents. It contained the same seed pod as had been in Professor Callow’s office. She tried to remember the name of the specimen. It was a strange name. She turned on a PC sitting on a desk and searched her memory. When she recalled it, and pulled up a page on the Idiospermum australiense something clicked in her mind.

There were no lights on in the villa. She hadn’t been followed but the solitary dark road to their accommodation left her shifting in her seat, straining her eyesight to see beyond the shadowy edges. She pocketed the car keys and found the leaflet on the sideboard in the bedroom. Delights of the Daintree listed the idiot fruit tree as occurring nowhere else in the world but North Queensland with the biggest remaining population in the Daintree National Park. Also known as the green dinosaur for its ancient lineage, 120 million years old, it bore the largest single seed of any tree in Australia, about the same size as a human fist. And that seed was poisonous, causing seizures and paralysis in cattle.

Scully didn’t need to know what the blood work showed. She had a theory that Mulder would be proud of. She picked up her cell and called him. He didn’t answer. 

The back of her neck itched as she did a little more research on the effects of the idiot fruit tree seeds on the human physiology. Occasionally, her mind would supply her with terrifying dreams of her abduction, bright white lights, drilling, her heart pumping out of her chest as her stomach was pulled into a grotesque bloat. She had always refused to believe that these things had actually happened to her but the more Mulder opened up about his own experience, the less she could deny. And having worked with Mulder so long, she had to concede that what they’d stumbled upon here, on their honeymoon, was indeed a malevolent influence at work. Not extraterrestrial, but human. Abducting, torturing, exerting power and control. She could only guess that the experimental program to reintroduce the thylacine was just scratching the surface of the shady activities going on.

She called Mulder again. Nothing. The itch intensified and she went to the kitchen to get a drink of water. Outside, the light flickered on. She instinctively ducked behind the open cupboard door, grappling for her phone like she would a weapon. She prayed Mulder would answer as she tracked the flashlight across the patio doors. She heard the footsteps, more than one person. She looked around her, thinking about the lie of the land. If she could exit through the small window over the sink, she could climb over the balcony and drop to the soft grass underneath, round the side of the villa and out onto the beach road.

The patio door was forced open behind her just as she squeezed through the frame and landed with an ‘oof’ on the deck. Straddling the handrail, even on her tiptoes she barely reached the narrow ledge on the outer side. She tipped herself enough to free the other leg and watched the myriad stars above her as she let go of the rail, landing with a thud on the ground below. The spikes of the bottle brush shrubs grazed her already stippled skin and she brushed at her arms as she edged through the moonlit garden alongside the back wall of the villa. Her chest pumped with adrenalin, her skin was sticky with sweat, her throat dry. She hadn’t done this for such a long time, and part of her was horrified at how easy it had been to fall back into it, the other half horrified that she had to.

She couldn’t hear anything much above the noise of the furniture being pushed over, the cupboards being ransacked. She rued the choice of isolated accommodation. Holding the keys in her pocket, she sidled further towards the front of the villa where the car was parked. She chanced a look around to where the patio doors were flung open. There was a dark four-wheel-drive parked next to her rental. The same as the one carrying the militia group that had attacked them at the forest car park. She tucked herself back into the shadow when she heard a raised voice from inside. She waited, now worrying for Mulder and Steph. They needed treatment. Her neck itched and she knew it could be a symptom of the idiot fruit seed too. Taking a deep breath, she darted across the patch of garden between the side of the villa and the car.

She knew unlocking it would alert the intruders, so she psyched herself for some advanced driving skills. She never got the chance. A brute arm grabbed her from behind and yanked her to the ground.


	8. Chapter 8

‘Don’t put me in the trunk, please don’t put me in the trunk’. Her wild breathing punctuated the inevitable horror of her fate. She bit down on the hand clamped over her mouth but it only earned her a knee to the back of the legs that lurched her forward, her shoulders bearing the weight of her bound wrists. She screamed from the base of her throat as the trunk shut out the moon and stars and her freedom.

She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, she couldn’t stop shivering. She tried counting backwards from 100 but got stuck at 97. She was in the trunk, she was in the fucking trunk. Her chest hurt from the jackhammering of her heart. Her neck was on fire. Her knees twinged when they turned corners, bumped and jostled. They were off road, she was sure of that, and she was in the goddamned, fucking trunk. She couldn’t reach her cell, but she could feel it in her pocket. It gave her the only measure of comfort on the fraught journey.

The car pulled to a sudden stop. The trunk opened and a flashlight beam arced over her face, settling against her eyes. She squeezed out the light but bright white circles danced behind them. Lifted bodily from the trunk, she took in huge gulps of air. Fake Officer Galea smiled down at her so she raised her knee, connecting with his balls, making him cough and double over. Had she not had her arms tied behind her she would have thumped him, double fisted, over the back of the head but instead she settled for a swift boot to the chest so that he tumbled backwards. She turned to flee but bumped into the body of another goon, black uniformed and wide like a bull.

They had brought her to the forest, deep into the forest. Way beyond the boundary of the tourist track. The brackish scent, the sounds of ancient leaves fluttering on the breeze, the blue lights bouncing above them. She struggled against the man holding her but fear had left her exhausted and she needed to conserve energy.

Galea stood up, tried to pretend he wasn’t still hurting.

“You can’t keep me here. Do you know how many people will be looking for me?” She kept her eyes locked on his. But he just smirked. “You’ve assaulted a federal officer, not to mention kidnapping. I know what’s going on here. I know the whole sordid plan.”

“Mrs Mulder,” he said, standing so close she could smell the garlic on his breath, “you are not a federal officer of Australia. Not even a federal officer of the United States of America. Not any more. You’re a doctor. But you’re on a leave of absence. Your husband is an embarrassment, a lunatic. Nobody is looking for you and you don’t know the half of the plan here.” He looked up at the dancing blue lights. “Pretty, aren’t they?”

“What are they?”

He smiled and pushed her towards the track leading through a dark bracket of trees. “They provide a useful distraction.”

“For what? Your conspiracy to clone all the extinct animals of Australia? To what end? Financial gain? Power? Is it people next? Is that the end game?”

“There is a small group of people who are so gullible that they’ll believe anything. Lights in the sky? Oh, that must be alien space craft. Thylacine sightings in the bush? Oh, they must be a secret community left over from a forgotten era. Missing time? Oh, I must have been abducted and experimented on.”

Of all the times she’d argued with Mulder about his propensity to believe anything and everything, she never imagined those debates would provide her with the capacity to withstand the ingratiating snark of an Australian thug version of Alex Krycek. Galea’s smarmy face, his arrogant tone, his slimy appearance, put her so on edge that her veins practically popped out of her skin.

She twisted her still sore neck around to spit at him. “You’ve been preying on innocent people, those looking for answers about missing loved ones. You’ve been poisoning them with the seed from the Idiospermum australiense. You’ve used the seeds to plant just enough doubt into these people’s minds, to induce a shared psychosis. But the thylacines. They’re real. I’ve seen them. Mulder’s seen them.”

Saying his name hurt. Where was he? Was he safe? Had he made it to the Gantry’s sanctuary?

Galea snorted, marching them onwards towards whatever fate he had planned. “You think anybody cares about some Yank tourists? You think anybody will pay you any attention? You and your spooky partner. You’re nobodies here. You’re cranks at best. Another pair of idiots lost in the bush.” He yanked on her elbow and spun her around. Leaned in close to her face. Whispered like a thylacine growl. “I know about you, Mrs Mulder. I know about all the things you’ve done. I know you broke your partner out of jail. Nobody would be surprised if you just didn’t come back home.” He shoved her back around and prodded her to move on. “Nobody cares about you.”

Above them, wind ripped through the canopy. The humidity had soared and there was a briny scent of unshed rain. The blue light swirled but it was a silver light ahead that captured her attention. As they neared it, she saw that it was coming from some kind of building set in a clearing. The first rumble of thunder rocked the sky as they entered the space. She could see dozens of stumps where the trees had evidently been felled, surely illegal given the age of this forest. Set to one side were two vehicles, RVs, parked nose to nose. On the roof of one was a bank of light systems beaming blue and white lasers into the sky above the treeline. The other was lit from the inside and that was where Galea pushed her. She stumbled up the ramp to the door where a man in black stood aside to let her through. Her shoulders groaned, her temples throbbed with the pulsing pressure of the brewing storm and it was a relief to step inside the relative cool of the room. Galea nodded to the man on the door who disappeared into the adjoining room. Before she could speak, two figures were bundled into the room, falling to their knees.

Mulder and Steph.

They appeared relatively unharmed, tied at the wrists like she was, although Steph was still nursing her sore ribs, hunched over slightly. Mulder was sweating profusely, the old bruise on his face purplish now. There was no sign of the Gantrys and her guts clenched. What had happened to them?

“Mulder, it’s me.” It was their customary greeting, like a safe word. It meant, hello, how are you? where are you? talk to me. At this moment, just to hear his honey-gravelled voice, meant allaying the pit of fear in her guts. His mouth opened but Galea chose to deliver a punch to his solar plexus that had Mulder heaving out breaths as he slumped forward. Steph flinched and gasped. Rage coursed through her and Scully rammed into Galea, head to his guts, knocking him into a bench where instruments and dishes fell to the floor with a tinny clatter. Thunder boomed and lightning streaked through the air, lighting up the room with a penetrating glare. She saw the dark seed fragments spill over the floor. This wasn’t a lab. It was a torture chamber.

“Scully,” Mulder yelled, righting himself and shouldering off one of the goons. But their tied hands restricted their ability to do any more than bruise and kick out, before Galea, and his brother had all three of them sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded. The storm thundered on, rain pelting the roof. Scully could hear Mulder’s laboured breathing, his back to hers. There was a crackle in his inhalation that she felt and it worried her. What had they done to him?

“You okay, Mulder?”

He huffed out a grunt in reply as Galea stalked the far end of the RV. He was talking on a walkie-talkie.

“Steph, how’s your rib?” Scully looked around further, trying to get a handle on the situation. The shelves were full of specimen jars and there were instruments and equipment on the bench tops. Posters displayed monotremes, mammals and marsupials and above one bench was a poster of Australia’s extinct mega fauna. Giant wombats and echidnas, reptiles and birds.

Their guard stepped in closer cutting off her view.

“It’s fine,” Steph said but her voice was weak.

Galea strode back towards them, nodding to the goon, who pulled Mulder up by the elbow. Thunder boomed so loud it shook the inside of the RV and the instruments rattled again.

“Who are you?” Scully asked, trying to stand, but the goon grabbed her. Her neck itched and ached in the building heat. Lightning bounced across the sky, flaring against the narrow windows of the truck. Branches scratched at the sides and roof. “You’re running an illegal cloning program here. You’re responsible for the disappearances of multiple people. You’ve been poisoning people with the seeds and native plants to induce hallucinations. But who’s funding you?”

She was panting hard as she spoke and Mulder was looking at her with an expression of understanding and fierce love. It was his leaps of logic that usually pushed through the blockages of a case but she suspected he had been victim to a larger dose of the poisonous seed than she had received. Her throbbing neck was mild in comparison to his symptoms –sick, sweating, laboured breathing. And Steph had clearly been subjected to a longer period of experimentation. Whether her abduction experiences were real or not, Scully hadn’t yet determined, but the woman had clearly suffered at the hands of these power-hungry thugs. And for what? To cover up the re-creation of animals long extinct.

“What are you saying?” Steph said. “That I’ve been making this all up? That the thylacines are a figment of my imagination?”

Scully shook her head. “No. They’re real. Those and whatever other animals have been cloned. This is a lab. The place where your father worked at was a front, the official facility to attract government funding. But this place, this is where the work is done. They probably thought you were a great asset at first – with your father’s research facility. But I suspect you got too close, Steph. And became an unwilling guinea pig. When you set up your tours and your abductees group, it would have been a useful distraction but when you involved us they had to shut you down or shut you up. The lights are fakes – lasers on these RVs beamed into the air when you were conducting your tours. You’ve been systematically poisoned with a low dose of the Idiot Fruit Tree seed. So they can control the narrative and feed you the stories that only you believe.”

“And my father? He was killed because he was a part of these cloning experiments? Or because he wouldn’t do what they asked? And what about my mother?”

Galea sighed and let out a low grunt. Scully knew she had hit the right note.

“Scully’s right, this is an operation that goes deep. This kind of set-up requires money and power,” Mulder said. “There’s somebody higher up the food chain than these goons.” He nodded to Galea, who promptly kicked him in the shins, forcing him back to his knees.

“And maybe that somebody is very interested to meet you,” Galea said as the lightning flashed across the room and the door opened.


	9. Chapter 9

That somebody turned out to be two somebodies. Len and Phyll Gantry. Scully smiled at first, relieved to see them but Mulder’s face was as thunderous as the storm raging outside. The Gantrys? He blinked slowly and Scully’s heart sank. It was a set-up. The whole thing. The story about their son, the cleaning of the facilities for the ‘government’, helping Steph. It was all just a cover.

“Who are you?” she yelled above the din of rain clattering on the roof.

“Who we are is not important,” Len said. “Who we represent is the question you should be asking. You’ve been running blind since you got here. Asking all the wrong questions.” He drew closer to Scully and where his smile before had been a friendly but broken old man, now his lips drew back into a sinister grin and she felt sick to her stomach.

They were stuck in the middle of the rainforest, with a storm raging around them. Only a handful of people knew where they were. Her mother was the only one left and she thought they were enjoying a honeymoon downunder. She wouldn’t even raise the alarm for weeks. Skinner too. She and Mulder had spent so long turning to each in times of need that they’d cut out everybody else. Perhaps they’d always asked the wrong questions.

“Who’s paying you? Who’s paying you to cause so much distress to people? Who’s worth that much that you would do this?”

“Eddie Romero Jr,” Mulder said and the laboured breathing between his words caused her guts to turn to ice. His skin colour was high, beads of sweat gathering at his brow. Thunder boomed and he squeezed his eyes shut, like the noise had sliced his head open. “Romero Sr ran this place back in the day. Loved to hunt. Fell in love with the big African safaris and saw a gap in the market with game hunting here in Australia.

“it’s illegal to hunt native animals,” Steph said. “So he had to create his own stock, isn’t that it?”

Mulder nodded at Scully. “The experiments Professor Callow was doing were funded by Romero Senior’s money but it was Junior who masterminded the continuation of the project.”

“And the poisoning and abductions,” Scully added. She looked at the Gantrys and the Galeas. “Just so you could what, sling your guns over your shoulders and bag up a brace of Tasmanian tigers?”

Phyll Gantry scoffed. “The rise of the cashed up Asian middle class has seen a boom in travel and leisure activities. We have unique fauna here. Eddie Romero Senior had a grand vision and the land, but he didn’t have the balls. His son had the wherewithal to see it through.”

“Breeding extinct animals just to kill them is not what I would call wherewithal,” Scully said. “It’s scientific madness.”

Phyll Gantry laughed. But her laughter cut off abruptly. A shriek of wind blew papers and equipment off benches and spread the seeds further across the floor. The door to the RV wrenched open on the fiercest gust.

At the entrance stood a pack of thylacines, teeth bared, hackles up, their low keening rising on the dropping of the wind. The pack leader threw its head back and howled before stalking up the first step and leaping inside. Its claws tapped across the floor.

Scully struggled with her bindings, edging backwards and butting against Mulder whose body was trembling.

“Back,” Steph said, but Scully wasn’t sure whether she was addressing the dogs or the people. She stepped back again, pushing Mulder too.

The goons huddled together, papers flying around them, wind shrieking and covering their frantic exchanges.

Len Gantry drew a gun from his pocket and aimed at the first thylacine, but before he could pull the trigger the animal launched itself at his throat, ripping out his scream before it could reverberate around the walls of the RV. Phyll Gantry bent to grab the weapon but the second dog jumped on her rounded shoulders and in flurry of spittle and blood and barking she slumped on top of her dead husband.

One Galea staggered backwards, pressing his body against the side wall, whilst the other tried to sidestep the animals distracted by the blood spilling out of the Gantry’s neck wounds. Two of the smaller dogs attacked and both brothers fell screaming to the floor, arms flailing. Their cries faded to silence as the final goon made a run for it. His body hit the ground outside with a dull thud and the pack of animals followed him out. Scully held her breath as the cacophony outside shredded the air then abated.

One long, low rumble of thunder played out, lightning simmered in pulses and rain hammered for a manic minute, then abruptly, the storm stopped. Mulder slumped to his knees, then fell to a foetal position. “The hunt is over,” he whispered before coughing weakly

Steph slipped down to the floor, bending her knees so as not to get her feet wet with Phyll Gantry’s blood.

“And we need to get out of here,” Scully said, scrabbling around the floor with her hands behind her. “I just need something to cut through these ties.”

Steph nodded to the door where the Alpha male stood. The fur around his snout was clumped with congealed blood. The slope of his back to where the stripes rounded his haunches was ridged with spikes. Scully squatted in front of Mulder. Her own breathing seemed to match the animal’s low, throaty whines as it stalked around the bodies towards Steph, who sat stock still, hardly daring to exhale. It sniffed Steph’s hair then pushed behind Scully to Mulder. Its wet nose brushed Scully’s forearm. Her sharp gulp of surprise and fear hurt her it was so quickly taken.

The thylacine’s teeth scraped her wrists and she stiffened. They’d survived beatings, being lost in the rainforest, missing time and seeing a gang of thugs gored to death. And she’d started to believe they could finally escape. Now, she was separated from a struggling Mulder by the solid body of a creature that shouldn’t even exist.

The pack massed outside the RV, a couple on the steps up and inside. The tang of copper permeated the hot, angry air. The thylacine growled, a primeval utterance, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. It snorted and dipped its head, its tail batting against the bench leg behind it. Its rough snout felt warm with what she knew was blood. She shifted forward, hoping she could spring upright, twist and deliver it a stunning blow to the guts before it sunk its teeth into Mulder’s chest. Fangs scraped the skin above her wrists and she planted her feet to the floor, ready. As the pressure built from the weight of its jaw, and its movements quickened, she leapt forward. In a flurry of spit and growling, her hands loosened and she was free. She spun on her toes and raised her foot to connect with it, but the animal was lying against Mulder’s body, licking his sweating brow.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW.

She’d forgotten quite how beautiful the coastline was. Their new villa was nestled amongst a lush paradise of bright plants and even brighter birds. The sky spread its kind blue above them, cloudless, benevolent. Mulder joined her on the private balcony, sliding his arm around her waist. Bruises still marred his face but after a week in the sun, he was tanned and relaxed. Well, as relaxed as Mulder could be.  
He brushed kisses along her jaw line and his towel-clad hips bumped hers. Her sarong floated to the deck and he whistled under his breath as he looked down at the gathering cerise pink layers. In her hands was a mango cheek, scored into small squares. She plunged her face into the orange flesh and the juice clung to her chin when she surfaced. He peeled the fruit from her hand and mimicked her action, before dropping the skin on the small glass topped table and scooping her into his arms. His kiss was deep, welcome. He drank from her like she quenched his thirst. Her calves strained, her shoulders stretched. Once he’d licked the mango from her face, his tongue laved a path down her neck, to the dip between her collar bones. One hand followed south and his fingers brushed the swell of her ass.  
“Scully,” he said, breathless and still kneading her waist.   
“Yeah.” She didn’t want to stop, she wanted the sticky sweet kisses and the promise of sticky sweet sex. She’d spent too long working on this honeymoon to listen to more of his theories.  
When he simply said “I love you” she pulled on his neck and he eagerly dived back in for more.  
A breeze swelled. Her skin bristled with gooseflesh and her hair lifted from the back of her neck. No itching, just urgent arousal inside. Mulder’s hand cupped her centre, pushing the heel against her mons. She moaned and the sound fitted the environment, raw and untamed. This place had brought out the beast in the many people they’d come into contact with and right now, it was bringing out hers. She spread her legs so his forefinger found her soft, wet flesh. He grunted his pleasure and she tugged at the towel around his waist. It crumpled with a thud to the deck and she grasped his shaft, hard in her hand.   
“Do we move this inside?” he asked.  
“Who’s watching, Mulder?”  
His eyes cast to the sky and he laughed. “Who knows?”

The room was cool, red tiled floors, whitewashed walls. But she was hot. Hot and more than ready as he pulled her into the bedroom and lay her on the white sheets. His lips suctioned around her nipple and his tongue flattened over her nipple making her gasp and grab his head.  
“Mulder, how do you do that so well?”  
“It’s a trade secret,” he said, looking up and grinning. She didn’t ask, just let him carry on. As he suckled, his fingers moved in and out of her wet heat and she bucked her hips with each stroke. She was on the verge, head empty of anything other than the physical sensation of her body. Electricity, like the storms. Lights behind her eyes, but not in the sky. Animalistic needs but no extinct creatures prowling. Abductee with abductee but so present, so focused that they only needed each other. How apt it was that their honeymoon should reflect the pattern of their lives together. They would never truly be able to leave the darkness behind; it really did find them. Bright sparks shone behind her eyes and she cried out as wave after wave coursed over her. Mulder shuddered and groaned into her neck and their hot, passion-reddened bodies stuck together.   
They lay like that a while. Breathing into each other, lightly tracing skin, falling in and out of a light sleep as the day clouded into early evening releasing the aroma of the exotic flowers in the beds around the villa.   
A raucous squawk from a parrot roused her finally. She turned to the doors, billowing nets rippling like watery ghosts, and behind them a bright green and red vivacity of the bird, clutching the handrail, head bobbing. She let herself smile. The flora and fauna here constantly amazed. She wondered what other secrets the tropical rainforest skirting the cove held. But when Mulder’s hand bumped her hip, she found she didn’t care so much. Making love on honeymoon was far sweeter than she ever imagined.  
“Scully,” he murmured, crawling over her and sliding into her still wet warmth.  
“Hmmm?”  
“I remembered this feeling when I was gone,” he said, nipping the soft skin along her collarbone. “I remembered the way you felt and smelled and tasted and sounded and I held on to that when... It was my lifeline… when I thought I’d never see you again. When they…”  
They undulated in a languid rhythm until he gasped and let go. She followed quickly, pulling at his shoulders as pleasure coursed through her veins. She kissed the side of his face, as he rolled off, facing her.  
“I’m not good at this stuff, Scully, but when I’m joined that way with you, it’s beyond intimate. It feels like we’ve been one forever. Like I draw on your strength. Does that make sense?” His voice was just a hoarse, tender whisper.  
She nodded, kissed his broad nose, the dip in his chin. “Perhaps our love is as ancient and as strange as the animals in this place.”  
His thumb on her lip tasted of salt and sex. She chuffed against it and he chuckled too. It was only the knock at the door that pulled them out of the moment. Mulder pulled on his pyjama pants and a tee, running his hand through his messy hair as he walked to open the door.  
“Steph,” he said, genuine warmth in his voice. “Come in.”  
Scully slipped a silk robe around her and padded to the living room. She filled the kettle as Steph admired the view out to the bay. “I’d forgotten quite how stunning it was, this place,” she said, letting the drapes swish back in place. “With all the goings on over the past few years, it seemed so foreboding here. Full of memories, or what I imagined were memories. Discoveries and mysteries and all the time, it was just a bunch of money-hungry grubs trying to live out their warped fantasies.”

Mulder looked at Scully. “We’ve met a few people like that on our travels.” He invited Steph to sit. “What are you going to do now?”  
The woman shook her head, and her lips twitched with emotion. She dug away tears with her thumb. “I’m not sure. I still love this place, it’s such a wild mix of the past and the future. There’s so much for us to learn from the history here, the indigenous flora. But with both parents gone now…”  
Scully handed her a mug of tea. Steph sipped quietly. “We’re sorry about your father, Steph. His involvement seemed to be not entirely of his own will.”  
“He was a great mind, a dedicated scientist but after Mum’s disappearance he just shut down. He was accused of her murder at the time. Hauled in for questioning in the middle of the night. They wrote terrible things about him in the papers. People shunned him. I wanted to move away but he wouldn’t leave. He said she would come back one day and where would she go if we weren’t there?” Steph brushed away a tear. “When you have no-one to love, you end up investing emotionally in all the wrong things. The stereotype of mad scientist isn’t without foundation, is it?”  
Scully let out a wry laugh. “Humans are programmed to ask why and to be curious and that curiosity often leads us to open doors we shouldn’t.”  
“Recreating extinct animals just to hunt them for big dollars is definitely a door that should have remained firmly shut,” Steph added, setting her jaw into a grim line. “Jurassic Park was a great movie, but…Hollywood isn’t real, is it? Jeez, Mum would be turning in her grave.”  
“You think she’s dead?” Mulder asked.  
Steph’s mouth popped open in surprise. “I’d say that’s the most logical explanation. Unless you really believe in extraterrestrials and alien abductions. Now that my head’s clear, I can see how crazy that stuff really sounds.”  
Scully pressed her lips together and gave Mulder a look. He half-smiled.  
“Anyway,” Steph said, “the cops down at Cairns just called to say that they’ve had no luck finding Eddie Romero Jr. Seems his Asian connections have helped keep him underground. They also told me that Phyll Gantry was formerly known as Phyllida Romero, Eddie Junior’s sister. Len Gantry was a crim whose speciality was fraud and identity theft. He had connections to Russian mobsters and a number of Asian casino owners. A marriage made in heaven. Between them, it seems they’d managed to build up a database of potential hunting parties from all over the globe.”   
“Big game downunder style. I can imagine it would have been a winning idea,” Mulder said. “Big bucks, dark web stuff.”  
Steph nodded. “They had to have had a number of insiders in the State government. Pulling development and land zoning strings. Queensland’s history of dodgy politics continues.”   
“We’ve seen what power does to men,” Scully said. “The spread of corruption knows no borders.” She smiled wryly at Steph. “What will happen to the thylacines out there, Steph. The other animals? Surely, there’ll be interest from the zoological world?”  
“I told the police the attacks were all done by one rogue dog that was so badly injured it wouldn’t survive.”  
Mulder rubbed his chin. “So they’ll just be out there,” he said, nodding to the line of trees that edged the beach. “Living free.”  
Steph walked to the door and smiled back at them. “Sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?”

Above them, the sky had turned grey and a rumble of thunder spread through the air. They walked on regardless. Amongst the towering trees, the graceful ferns, the thick green undergrowth. The air was full, heavy to breathe. Bellbirds chimed, parrots flocked and chatted, the occasional butterfly floated past. They strolled hand in hand, silent. A way in and Scully stopped. She nodded to Mulder who followed her eyeline. In the distance, stood a pair of thylacines, one slightly larger than the other. The smaller of the two inclined its head up to the larger and licked its snout. The larger bumped its chin up and down and shifted itself to press its long body against its mate. Joined.  
Mulder pulled her in tight and dropped a kiss on her head. The closer they stood together, the more free she felt.


End file.
